Page 31 of With Love

I smile at him, unsure of what to say. It feels like he wanted to say more, but didn’t or couldn’t.

“I am going to go see what I can whip up for dinner.” I place my hand on his and shoot him a gaze before walking back into his room, then heading toward the kitchen.

* * *

Marshall

“This is delicious Adrienne,” Lucy says, going in for another forkful of the spaghetti in front of her.

“I’m so glad you like it. I wasn’t sure how it was going to turn out.” Adrienne answers. “I just kind of threw everything together.”

“You used to make this for us all the time,” I speak up.

“Really?” she asks. She’s come to love learning about her previous life.

“Yeah, it's a favorite of mine; of ours.” I look at her with a smile.

She smiles back at me before turning her gaze to Owen.

“How do you like it, Owen?” she asks. It angers me that she needs validation from him.

“It's delicious,” he winks. “Everything you cook is.”

I look across the table to Owen, his lust-filled eyes plastered on Adrienne. I know what he’s doing. He is going to do everything he can to try and make it seem like he is better for Adrienne than I am. To make it seem like they’re meant to be together and not us.

I’m not stupid, neither is he. But no matter what, I need to make sure that I am not stooping down to his level. I want Adrienne to see that we’re meant to be together on her own. I refuse to try and sway her one way or another.

What I can do though, is give her a glimpse of our past together. Even if it's for no reason other than to help her remember. That's the very least I can do for her. She deserves to know how loved she is and once was.

* * *

When we’re finished eating, I head up to my office. Thinking back to dinner, about wanting to show Adrienne more from her past; show her more of our past together. I walk over to the closet and turn on the light.

I locate the box I’m looking for in the back of the closet in the guest room. Taking it out into the bedroom, I sit down on the bed and open the lid. It’s been a long time since I looked in here. It’s been too painful. I am not sure if she is ready to see any of this, but I want to give Adrienne something, a little piece of her past.

I won’t do it tonight. I don’t want her to think that I am doing it to distract her from Owen. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe the next day? Maybe I will wait until she asks for it?

I don’t know what the right thing to do is.

I pick up the photograph sitting on the top of the pile. Adrienne and I on our wedding day. She has her back to a large tree, my hand on her chin lifting her face up to mine. My other arm wrapped around her waist. Pulling her to me. Holding on for dear life. Her hands are draped around my neck, her bouquet hanging loosely in her grip. She looked like a princess that day. She wore the thing around the house for weeks after the wedding. She joked that she wanted to be buried in it. I wish that I still had her dress so I could show it to her, but she donated it after we had the miscarriage. She wanted to do something special for other parents who lost their children, so she donated it to a charity that makes dresses for stillborn babies, or babies that don’t make it out of the NICU, to be buried in.

I can feel my eyes prickling with tears as a knock sounds at the door, breaking me from the trance I’m in. I look up as I clear my throat. It’s Adrienne.

“Hey! Hi there,” I manage to get out.

“Hey. I’m pretty tired. I am going to turn in, but I wanted to say goodnight first.”

A smile warms across my face.

“Goodnight, Adrienne. Sweet dreams.” I respond.

“You too, Marshall.”

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